


Misunderstood

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, M/M, Misunderstandings, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is in love with the boy he is tutoring, but Greg Lestrade seems to be hiding something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstood

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning: This work contains mentions of child abuse and attempted murder. Please, please, please do not read it if those two things are upsetting to you.**
> 
> This is a pretty long one-shot for me. Things kind of got out of hand while I was writing it and everyone in it wanted to be super dramatic. I tried to stop them, but you know how teenagers are.
> 
> NaNoWriMo Update: I'm at about 47K out of 150K. I'm hoping to get two stories written and up tomorrow, so keep an eye out! Thanks for reading!

Mycroft Holmes didn’t intend to fall in love with Greg Lestrade. He didn’t mean to spend his every waking moment thinking about Greg, especially when they were at school or Mycroft was tutoring Greg in Mycroft’s room. He especially didn’t mean to think about Greg then, when sitting at Mycroft’s desk together, their thighs brushing under the desk, Mycroft unable to keep his mind off thoughts of throwing Greg down on the bed that sat only feet away.

“You seem distracted,” Greg said, looking at Mycroft thoughtfully.

Luckily, Mycroft’s brain was quick to come up with excuses for his behavior. “I was wondering why we never study at your house.”

Greg looked down at the desk. “My house isn’t as nice as yours,” he said quietly.

Mycroft smiled, worried that he had upset Greg. “That’s okay. I was just curious.”

“Can we get back to the work now?” Greg asked.

Mycroft frowned. Greg had never been short with him before. Normally they worked together and laughed and had a good time. He understood if Greg was embarrassed about his home, but it wasn’t as if Mycroft had pressed the issue. He returned to explaining the concepts to Greg, trying to put it out of his mind.

After Greg had left, Mycroft realized that he had left his bag. He tried to catch him, but Greg was gone. He knew where Greg lived, so he thought he’d drop it off. Greg would need his bag to do the rest of his homework and Mycroft certainly didn’t want Greg to get into trouble.

As he approached Greg’s house, he heard shouting inside. He hesitated, but knocked anyway, thinking that the bag was too important to let overhearing a row deter him. He knocked on the door and jumped as a crash sounded inside.

Greg came to the door and Mycroft stared. He had a cut, swollen lip and it looked like he had just stopped his nose from bleeding. Greg’s eyes widened when he saw who it was. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a rush.

“You left this,” Mycroft said, holding out the bag. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, but you need to get out of here,” he said urgently, his voice low. “If he sees you he’ll--”

He was cut off by a shout from behind him. Greg froze, but Mycroft could see a man behind him, swaying drunkenly. “He’s leaving, dad,” Greg said.

Mycroft stared unsure of what to do. He wanted to leave, but he needed to get Greg out of there too. Nothing good could come of Greg staying in that house. “Come with me,” he said, hoping that the man wouldn’t hear.

“I can’t. Get out of here.” Greg was talking through gritted teeth, glaring at Mycroft.

“You can’t stay here. Tell him you need to go to a friend’s house.”

Mycroft held tightly onto Greg’s back so he couldn’t take it from him, glaring back. “Dad, I have to go out for a bit,” Greg said finally.

The man cursed and yelled a bit more, but Greg was ignoring him, following Mycroft down the path. Mycroft was still holding the bag, leading Greg. “What were you thinking?” Greg asked.

“I was thinking that you needed your bag anjd then I was thinking that you shouldn’t be in that house,” Mycroft said, finally letting go. “Will you be in trouble tomorrow?”

“He won’t remember it tomorrow,” Greg said glumly.

“Well you’ll stay at my house, then,” Mycroft said. “My parents won’t mind.”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” Greg said, but he didn’t sound angry. When Mycroft looked at him, he was smiling slightly.

They made it back to Mycroft’s house, where Mycroft explained to his parents that he had invited Greg to stay. Luckily, it was Friday, so they didn’t mind. They went back up to Mycroft’s room and sat down in their usual seats at the desk.

“How long has this been going on?” Mycroft asked quietly.

Greg shrugged. “Forever.”

“Why don’t you tell anyone?”

“What’s anyone going to do?” Greg asked.

“It’s not right.”

Greg scrutinized him before standing. “Can I trust you?” he asked. Mycroft nodded and Greg pulled his shirt up and over his head.

Mycroft couldn’t help himself, he gasped. Greg’s torso was covered in bruises, some yellowed and old, some just forming. He put his hand in front of his mouth, shocked at how damaged Greg’s body was.

“You really need to get out of that house,” Mycroft said.

“I’m out for tonight, that’s what matters, right?” Greg asked with a small smile. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t leave you there.” Mycroft reached out and touched Greg’s mouth gently where his lip was split. He realized what he had done and looked up at Greg’s eyes to see his reaction.

Greg was staring at him, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. He cleared his throat and looked away and Mycroft pulled his hand back, standing and pulling some pajamas out of his wardrobe. “These may be a bit small, but they should fit. I’m going to go get a cup of tea. Would you like one?” 

Greg nodded. “Tea would be lovely, thanks,” he said and watched as Mycroft left.

Mycroft mentally kicked himself as he went down the stairs to the kitchen. Greg had just been beaten up by his father: the last thing he needed was to have his friend who had seen the horribleness hit on him. He needed a friend right now, nothing else.

He made the tea and went upstairs carrying a tray. When he arrived, Greg was still shirtless. “The shirt was a bit tight. Do you mind if I sleep like this?”

Mycroft smiled before he could stop himself. “No, of course not. We do have a spare bedroom, if you want, or you can sleep in here with me. The bed’s big enough for two to sleep without a problem,” he added, hoping it didn’t sound like he wanted something from Greg.

“I’d rather not be alone, if that’s alright,” Greg said. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

“Of course not. Biscuit?” he asked holding out a plate.

Greg smiled. “My favorite,” he said, taking one. He accepted his cup of tea and sat back in his chair. Mycroft sat cross-legged on the bed, holding his tea and watching Greg.

“You can always come here if you need to,” he said after a few minutes. “Even on a school night. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.”

“Your parents must be very understanding if they wouldn’t mind me staying on a school night,” Greg said with a grin.

“Yeah, well, they’re pretty easy. They’re away a lot anyway and my brother is usually away at school. Schools keep asking him to leave, so they move him around a lot. It’s usually just me here.”

“That’s sad,” Greg said quietly.

“It could be worse,” Mycroft said without thinking, then winced.

“I know.” Greg smiled at Mycroft, his kind eyes crinkling at the edges. It was Mycroft’s favorite Greg face.

“We should probably go to sleep,” Mycroft said, looking at the clock by the bed. “It’s getting pretty late.”

Greg agreed and they climbed into bed after Mycroft took the tray back downstairs. They didn’t end up going to sleep, talking late into the night. By the time they fell asleep, it was nearly dawn.

Mycroft woke up much later than usual the next morning. His face was pressed up against Greg’s back. He stayed there for a moment, breathing Greg’s smell in deeply. When he finally did move, the movement of the bed made Greg groan and roll over, smiling at him.

Mycroft did his best not to stare at Greg’s sleepy smile, but he couldn’t help himself. He had thought that he had seen all of Greg’s different faces and had cataloged them in his head. Sleepy and adorable was a new one, though, and it jumped right to the top of Mycroft’s list of favorite Greg faces. 

“Morning,” Greg said, yawning.

“Good morning,” Mycroft replied, trying to his his smile.

Greg sat up and stretched, wincing and looking down at his bruises. “I forgot…” His voice was soft, sad. Mycroft felt a sudden, strong urge to protect him, to stop him from ever feeling that way again.

The door slammed open and Mycroft’s irritating little brother, Sherlock, ran in. “Mycroft, where did you put—” he cut himself off abruptly, staring at Mycroft and Greg. Mycroft supposed it looked strange, Mycroft lying in bed next to Greg, who was shirtless.

Sherlock turned, his eyes still impossibly large and ran off, shouting for their mother. “Mummy! Mycroft has a naked boy in his bed! They clearly didn’t have sex, but he wants to!”

Mycroft bit the inside of his lip, counting to three inside his head before turning to Greg and rolling his eyes. “Little brother. He goes back to school in a few days,” he explained.

Greg grinned at him. “I’ve heard that they can be a pain.”

Moments later, Mycroft’s mother came to the door. When she saw them, she raised one eyebrow, looking back and forth between them.

Greg climbed over Mycroft to get up. He grunted in pain and nearly fell, Mycroft catching him and helping him stand. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Holmes,” he said, but stopped when he realized she was staring at his torso. He turned to look at Mycroft, who was sitting up. “I thought you told your parents why I was here.”

Mycroft shook his head. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want them to know.”

“Who did this to you?” Mrs. Holmes asked, stepping closer and looking over the bruises.

Greg took a deep breath. “My father. He doesn’t mean to, though, he just drinks and…” he trailed off lamely, looking away from the pity in her face.

“Oh, Greg,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. “Well, you stay here as long and as often as you need. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Holmes.” Greg turned and reached for the shirt he wore the previous day, stopping when he realized it wasn’t where he left it.

“Your clothes are being laundered. Mycroft said you forgot clothes for today, so I took the liberty. They should be ready soon, I’ll bring them up when they are done,” she said. “If you boys want any breakfast, I’ll be downstairs.”

“Is she always that amazing?” Greg asked after she left, shutting the door behind her.

Mycroft shrugged, standing and picking out some clothes for himself. “Are you going to go home today?”

Greg nodded. “I should. He’ll be okay today. He’s always really apologetic. Until he starts drinking again.” Greg’s face darkened and he looked away.

“Would you like to stay here tonight? It’s the weekend, he can give you permission before he starts drinking and you don’t even have to be there later.” Mycroft hoped that his voice didn’t sound as hopeful as he felt.

Greg thought for a moment. “I think I should be home. He doesn’t drink every night, so hopefully tonight will be a good one.”

Mycroft nodded, but was disappointed. He knew this wasn’t going to end well.

***

It was late when Mycroft’s phone rang. He had given Greg his number in case he needed anything. “Hello?” he groggily.

“Is it—is it okay if I stay tonight?” Greg’s voice asked. It sounded broken, like he had been crying.

Mycroft suddenly felt totally awake. He jumped out of bed. “Of course. Where are you?”

“Outside.”

“I’ll be right there and let you in,” Mycroft said and hung up the phone. He ran down the stairs and threw the door open, pulling Greg in and shutting and locking the door. Greg was a mess: he had blood on his shirt and one eye was swollen nearly shut. He was sniffling had clearly been crying. Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg and held him. He wasn’t sure if that was okay, but at that moment it was all he could think to do.

Greg’s breathing evened out slowly. He rested his head on Mycroft’s shoulder, shaking slightly with a couple sobs. When he seemed to be calm, Mycroft pulled away slightly. “Let’s go up to my room,” he said, taking Greg’s hand and leading him.

Greg seemed dazed, so Mycroft helped him take his shirt off. He retrieved the pajama bottoms that Greg had worn the night before and held them out, turning around after Greg took them to give him some privacy. A tap on his shoulder told him that Greg was changed and Mycroft turned back. What he saw broke his heart: Greg looked devastated.

“I thought tonight would be a good night,” he whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Mycroft folded Greg in his arms again, holding as tightly as he dared. “What can I do?”

“This is perfect,” Greg said, resting his head on Mycroft’s chest.

The situation seemed a little awkward: Mycroft was holding his friends as if they were lovers, but they weren’t. He was fairly confident that Greg had no interest in him like that, but here he was, seeking comfort in Mycroft’s arms. He decided that Greg probably just felt a need for someone told hold him and protect him rather than hurting him and that since there was no chance of anything romantic happening, Mycroft was the safest person. Mycroft was perfectly happy with that being the situation. Next to being in an actual relationship, Greg being comforted by Mycroft in his time of need was the thing Mycroft wanted the most.

After a while, they went to bed. Greg shook a little, which Mycroft could feel by the mattress moving, until Mycroft reached out and rested his hand on Greg’s back. It wasn’t long after that that Greg began snoring as he fell into a deep sleep.

When Mycroft awoke the next morning, Greg was still asleep. He dressed silently and went downstairs, still a bit confused about the night before. His mother was in the kitchen when he entered it. “Good morning, dear,” she said with a smile.

“Greg’s here,” Mycroft told her.

“Oh? When did that happen?” she asked, looking concerned.

Mycroft felt tears well in his eyes and tried to push them down. “In the middle of the night. He was very upset. Actually, I’d like to ask you about something. I hugged him last night, because I didn’t know what to do. I’m not very good with emotion. Was that the right thing to do?”

She smiled fondly. “Yes, Mycroft. He probably needed to be comforted.”

“But there’s nothing romantic between us. He’s straight.” He realized too late that he hadn’t mentioned himself as being straight, but his mother just smiled.

“You can comfort friends as well. Some boys resist that sort of closeness, but Greg seems to need it right now. Just be careful not to get too attached.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You know that I do not have feelings like that,” he said. 

“Of course, dear,” she said.

“What if a boy did?” he asked suddenly. “If a boy felt that way about one of his friends? What would he do then?”

She considered his question for a moment. “Right now, he needs you to be there for him. You should keep those feelings to yourself, unless he says something.”

Mycroft nodded. As he left the kitchen, he saw Greg standing in the hallway just outside the door, staring at him. Mycroft felt his eyes get big, but Greg just grinned. He must not have heard anything, Mycroft told himself. Good.

That night, Greg went home and everything was fine. The next day at school, Mycroft didn't expect anything to be different. Greg and Mycroft weren't exactly friends. Mycroft had never seen a reason to form friendly attachments with others in his school and everyone knew it. Greg, on the other hand, was very popular. All of the boys in school wanted to be him and all of the girls wanted to date him. He had always been friendly with Mycroft, and Mycroft had been friendlier to Greg than anyone else, which was why he had agreed to tutor him, but they still maintained their separation at school. Mycroft was sure that Greg didn't want people to know about their friendship or the nights sleeping at Mycroft's house to avoid his father.

Mycroft was right. Greg more or less ignored him other than a friendly nod in the hallway. Mycroft ignored that gesture, not interested in Greg's pity nod. He knew that Greg would never have spent actual time with Mycroft if he hadn't needed to keep up his image at school. Mycroft overheard Greg's response when someone asked him about the bruises on his face: "You should see the other guy." He glanced at Mycroft as he said it, clearly wondering if Mycroft were going to challenge him about it and tell everyone in school what he had seen. Mycroft feigned disinterest, looking down at his notebook. When he looked back up at Greg, he was laughing with his friends again.

"Is your friend Greg coming over today, dear?" Mycroft's mother asked when he walked into the kitchen after school.

"He isn't my friend, Mummy. He's just a boy I know," Mycroft told her, sure that he was failing to sound like he didn't care.

"Ah. Okay. Well, your father and I are taking Sherlock to school this evening and then we're off to London for a few days," she said, stirring a pot on the stove.

"Very well," Mycroft said and left. He didn't mind if his parents were always out and he was always alone. He was sure that he would be alone for much of his life.

That night, he sat up as his phone rang. "What?" he asked, feeling annoyed.

"Can I come in?" Greg's voice asked.

Mycroft nearly said something biting about going to a friend's house, but the sound of Greg's voice scared him. He flew down the stairs and opened the door. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking Greg over for injuries.

"I'm not really hurt," Greg said, but something was clearly wrong.

Mycroft led Greg upstairs and pointed to the bed. "Sit and tell me what he said."

"How did you know that he said something?" Greg asked.

"It was obvious. So what was it?" Mycroft was trying to sound caring, but he was annoyed and he had trouble hiding it.

"He told me that he could kill me," Greg said, looking away. "He even said he knew how he'd dispose of the body and tell everyone that I ran off to London."

"Greg, you need to get out of that house," Mycroft told him firmly.

"That's why I came here."

"No, permanently. You need to get out of there forever."

"Where would I go? My mother is dead and I have no other family." He looked crushed and terrified. "I was afraid to sleep there tonight."

Mycroft sat next to Greg and put an arm around his shoulders. Greg leaned into the touch, once again acting like someone touching him gently was a new experience. Mycroft sighed and wrapped his other arm around Greg's chest, holding him tightly. 

"Thank you," Greg whispered.

"You're going to stay the night, obviously. If you can help me figure out the washer, we can even wash your clothes for school tomorrow."

"I should just bring some clothes over here in case I need them," Greg joked with a short laugh.

"Not a bad idea. Come on, let's get you out of those clothes," he said and stood up. Greg gave him a strange look that Mycroft couldn't quite interpret, and Mycroft went bright red, realizing what he had said. "I--I didn't mean like that. To wash the clothes...." he stopped talking, knowing that he was just going to make everything worse.

Greg giggled and pulled his pajamas out of their drawer, putting them on as Mycroft turned slightly to give him privacy. They managed to get the washer started with clothes and soap in it before having a midnight snack. They set the now clean clothes to dry and headed to bed, Mycroft lying on the edge of the bed to give Greg enough room.

"Mycroft?" Greg asked in a small voice after a few minutes. "Are you asleep?"

"Not yet, Greg."

"I liked it when you touched me. Do you think--it's okay if you don't want to--but do you think you might put your arm around me again? It makes me feel safe."

Mycroft smiled, picturing how much Greg was blushing. He didn't say that he would have done anything to make Greg more comfortable, but he wanted to. Instead, he rolled over and put his arm on Greg gently.

Greg grabbed his hand and held it to his chest, pulling Mycroft right up against his back. "Is this okay?" he asked.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, Greg. It's fine."

"I'm glad I have you, Mycroft."

Mycroft didn't respond, he just lay there, pressed up against Greg, feeling Greg's heart beating against his hand. He wasn't sure what exactly Greg meant when he said he "had" Mycroft, but Mycroft let his mind explore all of the nicest possibilities, starting with becoming the best of friends and ending with growing old together.

***

The next morning, Mycroft hesitated before leaving the house with Greg. "If you want me to wait a bit so we don't arrive at school together, I don't mind," he said quietly.

Greg looked confused. "Why would I want that?" he asked.

"Well, you don't want your friends seeing you with me."

"And why not?"

Mycroft shrugged and stepped out into the morning sunlight, not wanting to list every one of the numerous reasons that Greg might not want them seen together. He couldn't totally control his annoyance with the situation, however, so he said, "Why don't you go to one of their houses at night? I mean, I understand you wanting to avoid telling more people what's going on, but one person surely wouldn't be too terrible."

"Go to whose house?" Greg asked, frowning.

"One of your friends."

"I thought we were friends," Greg told him, stopping in his tracks.

"Are we? I thought I was just tutoring you." He made his voice sound as cold as possible, but he stopped and looked back at Greg, unsure.

"After all that's happened? All the things you've done for me, all of the time we've spent together, joking and having a good time?"

Mycroft shrugged, but he suddenly felt very small. "You barely acknowledge me at school. You spend time with your real friends there."

"No, I spend time with people who say they're my friends but don't care about me," Greg told him, sounding annoyed. "I'd never open up to any of those guys like I have to you. You're different. Special."

Mycroft felt his heart leap into his throat at the thought of Greg thinking he was special. "Oh, I thought..." he trailed off, not exactly sure what he thought.

Greg reached out and put his hand on Mycroft's shoulder. "Did you really think that I was just using you? That I don't care about you?" He looked hurt and Mycroft felt awful. One of the points he had been trying to make came back to him and he stepped away from Greg, out of his reach.

"Why do you ignore me at school, then?"

"I thought that's what you wanted!" Greg said, looking surprised. "You're Mycroft Holmes. You're this elite, unattainable thing. You don't have friends!"

Mycroft blinked. Did Greg just call him "unattainable"? He must have been hallucination. Mycroft wasn't unattainable, especially when it came to Greg. "I'm not," he said, afraid to specify to which word he was referring.

"I thought if I acted friendly with you, you might be embarrassed," Greg said to his feet, not looking up at Mycroft. "I'm sorry for ignoring you."

Mycroft stepped closer to him, attempting a comforting smile. "I apologize for getting annoyed with you without talking to you first. I may have overreacted."

"'May have'?" Greg asked with a grin.

Mycroft smiled despite himself. "Shut up," he said.

"Very nice thing to say to your friend," Greg said, starting to walk again. "We're going to be late for school because of you."

When they walked into school, they didn’t separate and head to their respective classes, as Mycroft assumed they would. Greg walked with Mycroft to his first class, stopping at the door with a smile. “I’ll see you at lunch, yeah?” he asked.

Mycroft shrugged. “I suppose you will.”

“No, I mean we’ll sit together, you idiot,” Greg said, laughing.

Mycroft grinned, chuckling at himself. “Oh, yes. See you then.”

“Bye, mate!” Greg disappeared in the sea of students and Mycroft sat down in his customary seat.

“Are you friends with Greg Lestrade?” the girl sitting next to him asked. “I could have sworn he just called you mate.”

“I am friends with Greg,” Mycroft told her.

“Why would he be friends with you? Did you pay him to say that you’re friends so we like you?” she asked.

Mycroft turned. “I could not care less about your opinion of me. I certainly wouldn’t waste money trying to improve it.”

“Of course not,” she said, turning to girl on the other side of her.

By lunch, it appeared to be all over school that Mycroft had paid Greg to pretend to be his friend. Mycroft didn’t care what people thought, but it was quite annoying to have people constantly making rude comments about it. Mycroft sat at his usual table,

watching Greg walk into the lunchroom and head over to his usual table out of the corner of his eye. He stopped, looking around, and saw Mycroft sitting two tables away. 

“Come sit with us,” Greg said, walking over.

“No, thank you,” Mycroft said. “I’d rather not sit with them. I would not be offended if you chose to sit with them over sitting with me.”

Greg frowned. He went back to his normal table, where he had left his books. “Hey guys, I’m going to go sit with my friend Mycroft.”

“Okay Greg. But first, tell us exactly how much that little nerd is paying you to pretend to be his friend,” one of the boys said, grinning.

“What?” Greg asked.

“How much he’s paying you. Come on, we know you’re not really his friend. He doesn’t have friends.”

Mycroft tried to tune the conversation out. Any moment, Greg would realize that he was just being silly and that everyone else was right. They weren’t right, but Greg was just like everyone else: being popular was more important than a boy who had no idea how to be a friend.

“He isn’t paying me anything. We’re friends.”

“You can admit it, mate,” the boy said. “The whole school knows anyway.”

“The whole school what? Everyone thinks that I’m pretending to be Mycroft’s friend?” Greg looked around the room, which was full. He used a nearby chair as a step stool and climbed onto the table.

“Oy! Everyone!” he shouted, causing the room to fall silent. “I’ve heard that there are rumors about me being friends with Mycroft Holmes. I want to be clear, the rumors are not true. Mycroft did not pay me or any other nonsense. Mycroft is my friend. He’s a better friend than anyone else I’ve ever used that word to describe. I’ve admittedly been a pretty terrible friend, since you all seem to think it so unlikely that I sincerely like him. So here I’m telling you all at once: Mycroft Holmes is my best friend and anyone who has anything to say about him can come say it to me and I’ll deal with you personally.”

He jumped down and headed over to Mycroft’s table, where he sat down next to Mycroft. “That was unnecessary, you nutter,” Mycroft said, pretending to do some school work.

“Do you know what they were saying?” Greg asked, sounding amazed.

Mycroft looked up and caught Greg’s eyes. “Yes, I know exactly what they were saying. I always know what they say.”

Greg watched him for a moment, letting Mycroft’s words sink in. Mycroft was sure that he was thinking about all of the things he had heard about Mycroft. Greg had never joined in on the teasing, but he had never stopped anyone from repeating rumors, either.

“I’m sorry,” Greg said quietly.

“What? You haven’t done anything.”

“No, I did. I may have been dealing with my father, but you’ve been abused here at school and I didn’t stop it. When you saw what was happening to me, you stopped it.” Mycroft was dismayed when he looked up at Greg and realized that Greg looked guilty.

“I haven’t stopped it.” Mycroft left off the implied “yet”, but it seemed to hang in the space between them, a promise that Mycroft would make sure he fulfilled.

That afternoon, Greg walked home with Mycroft. At Mycroft’s door, Greg hesitated. “Are you coming in?” Mycroft asked.

Greg sighed. “I’m going to go home. I plan to pack a bag in case I need to leave in a hurry, though.”

Mycroft reached out and touched the fading bruise on Greg’s cheek before he could stop himself. “Don’t wait. If he even starts drinking, please come over.”

Greg nodded and left. Mycroft watched him go as far as he could see him, then went inside and went right upstairs to his room. He was worried about what was going to happen when Greg went home. If things had just stayed at beatings, Mycroft might have been more comfortable with it (barely), but now that Greg’s father had moved on to threats of murder, Mycroft was really scared.

Mycroft sat at his desk and thought about the effect Greg had on him. Mycroft had spent most of his life learning to ignore his emotions, pushing them down and not feeling them. He had done his best not to let it bother him when the other kids at school mistreated him or when his parents were always absent. He did everything he could to stop himself from feeling it when he had no friends and spent all of his free time alone in his room. Greg, however, had changed everything. Suddenly Mycroft was feeling it when people at school said mean things about him, because Greg was hearing those things. The look of pain in Greg’s eyes when talking about his father made Mycroft hurt more than Mycroft thought possible. All of the years that Mycroft had spent trying to prevent himself from feeling pain were ruined almost immediately when the sweetest, sexiest boy he had ever met flashed those tear-filled eyes in his direction.

Mycroft thought about solutions to his Greg problem for hours: before he knew it, he was sitting in a room that had long since become dark. He looked at the time and was surprised to see that it was past ten. He had an uneasy feeling, especially since he hadn’t heard from Greg yet.

He stood, resolved to go to Greg’s house and ensure that he was okay. He nearly changed his mind when he was standing at the door, but a loud thud from inside made him try the door. It was unlocked, so Mycroft pushed it open. Inside, what he saw stunned him for a moment: Greg’s father was standing over his lifeless son, having apparently dragged him down the stairs.

Quickly, Mycroft dialled the emergency services number on his phone, which was in his pocket. He wasn’t sure what else to do, so he settled for yelling. “Stop! Leave him alone!”

“Get outta here, kid!” the man yelled, swaying slightly.

Mycroft noticed that Greg seemed to be bleeding from several cuts. Hoping that none of them were too serious, he took a step forward and did his best to distract the deranged man. “I said, leave him alone!”

The man took a swing at Mycroft. Years of being bullied had prepared Mycroft for just that moment, and he ducked. He took a couple steps backwards, hoping to draw the man out of the house, away from Greg. It worked a bit. Greg seemed to be forgotten as the man charged Mycroft, knocking him down. Mycroft had been standing in the doorway, and when he was knocked down, his head hit the sidewalk outside. He saw stars as pain filled his head and he grunted as he felt a punch land on his face. The last thing he knew before everything went dark was that he could hear the sound of an ambulance.

***

“You bloody nutter,” Greg’s voice was saying. Mycroft looked around, ignoring the pain in his head. He seemed to be in some sort of hospital bed, in the same room as Greg, who was also in a bed.

“What?” he asked stupidly, noticing that he could see his mother and father standing outside, talking to a doctor.

“You almost got yourself killed.”

“So did you,” Mycroft said, everything coming back to him. “Are you okay? What did he do to you?”

Greg shrugged. “Everything is fine. He’s jailed, that’s all that matters. I won’t have to worry about him. Your mum seems to think that it’s going to be a while before he’s released.”

Mycroft smiled. His parents had all sorts of connections that they could use to ensure that Greg’s father stayed in prison for a very long time. “How are you feeling?” he asked Greg.

“Is that all you’re worried about? Aren’t you worried about what he did to you before the police arrived?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Hit me about the head and shoulders, if how I feel is any indication. I thought he had killed you. I was so scared.”

"Greg grinned at him, a reaction the Mycroft hadn’t been expecting. “Nothing so dramatic. He tried, though. Might had succeeded if it weren’t for you.”

Mycroft looked away, uncomfortable with the raw, naked emotion in Greg’s face and voice. He focused on the door, where his parents were coming into the room. “Oh, splendid, you’re awake,” the doctor said as his mother rushed to his side.

“Mycroft, we were so worried!” she said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I am quite well, Mummy,” Mycroft said, trying to sound normal, but letting her hug him as long as she wanted.

“Yes, you are,” the doctor said, looking over the chart. “You just had a bit of a bump on the head. Now that you’ve awoken, we can assess what damage, if any, there is and decide when you may go home.”

“How will you tell if there’s damage or that’s how he normally is?” Greg teased from the other bed.

Mycroft smiled despite himself and threw one of his pillows at his friend.

***

Mycroft and Greg were both held in the hospital for a few days and then released on a Saturday. Mycroft didn’t say anything when his parents seemed to be giving Greg a ride home, but he wondered where Greg was going. He didn’t have a father at home anymore, Mycroft didn’t suppose that Greg would be allowed to stay in his house alone, if he even wanted to. When they pulled up to Mycroft’s house and Greg followed them in, Mycroft still didn’t say anything: perhaps Mycroft’s parents had offered to let

Greg stay there until he figured things out.

When they walked inside, Mycroft was surprised by a large pile of boxes. “What’s this?” he asked, looking at it.

“Greg’s things,” Mycroft’s mother said. “The movers are taking them up to his room later today.”

“His room?” Mycroft asked, looking at Greg, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“You didn’t tell him?” she asked Greg, frowning.

“Oh, I knew I forgot something. Your parents are taking me in. I’ll be living here now.” He looked suddenly nervous. “If that’s alright, mate.”

“Of course it’s alright!” Mycroft said, more excited than he could ever remember being. “Who wouldn’t want to live with his best friend?”

Mycroft’s mother smiled. “Well, you boys go catch up on your school work in Mycroft’s room. I expect your marks to remain consistent, even with this change.”

Greg followed Mycroft up to his room. Mycroft couldn’t believe what had happened. He had been worried about Greg having to leave, but now it seemed that Greg would always be there. “Greg, what are we telling people at school?” Mycroft asked, suddenly, thinking about what everyone would say.

Greg shrugged. “I suppose we’ll tell them the truth. It was all over the news, so they probably know anyway. Thanks, by the way.”

“You needn’t be so sentimental,” Mycroft said, but he smiled at Greg. “Now, let’s get some work done. You heard my mother.”

That night, Mycroft was lying in bed, thinking about Greg. He had been so happy initially that Greg was there, but now he was thinking about the fact that he was totally in love with his friend, whose dad had just tried to murder him. There was no chance that

Greg was in a position to have any sort of relationship, even if he were interested in boys. Now that Greg was living in the Holmes house, Mycroft was sure to become more and more obsessed, until he inevitably did something that would make everyone uncomfortable. He decided to do his best so get rid of the feeling, to push them away, so that Greg wouldn’t be made to be uncomfortable in what was now his house. He had made up his mind and was just falling asleep when he heard a soft tapping on his door. He stood and opened it, surprised to see Greg standing there in his pajamas. “What’s wrong?” Mycroft asked.

Greg looked down at the floor, embarrassed. “I’m scared.” His voice was so quiet that Mycroft wasn’t sure he heard him correctly.

“Come on in,” Mycroft said, letting him in and shutting the door.

“I was asleep when he--when he started it,” Greg said, his face bright red. “The past few nights you’ve been in the room, so I wasn’t as scared. But I was just alone in that room and I couldn’t help but think...well, I’m sure you can guess what I’m thinking.”

“Sleep in here tonight. You’re always welcome to sleep in here.” Mycroft was sure that he would come to regret those words, but he couldn’t look at Greg, standing there looking so sweet and unsure, and not give him everything he had to offer.

“Are you sure?” Greg asked.

Mycroft smiled, hoping it was a macho, friendly smile. “Of course. I slept better when you were in here anyway. Your snoring was like a white noise machine.”

“I don’t snore,” Greg said, a smile playing at his lips.

"Of course not. Now get into bed,” he said, pointing at the side of the bed that Greg had been sleeping on.

Greg got in. Mycroft lie down next to him, facing away from Greg. He was a little worried that if he were too close to Greg, he would have an embarrassing situation, but his desire for Greg to be comfortable overrode his fear.

He was surprised to feel an arm snake around his middle. Greg was pressed up against his back, his arm wrapped tightly around Mycroft’s stomach. “Is this okay?” he asked, his quiet voice sounding shaky and nervous.

“Whatever you want,” Mycroft said, kicking himself for sounding more like they were dating than he intended. Greg let out a breath and relaxed, though, which made Mycroft relax, and they were soon both asleep.

***

The next morning, when Mycroft went downstairs, his mother was waiting for him. “I noticed that Greg didn’t sleep in his own bed last night,” she said casually.

Mycroft shrugged. “He didn’t want to be alone. He was scared and I don’t mind.”

“What is your relationship?”

“We’re friends. That’s it.” Mycroft kept his face carefully hidden from her view. He knew that she would immediately know his feelings if she could see him.

“It seems like you might be more than friends.”

“Mother, I told you. We’re just friends.” Mycroft turned and walked out of the room. He met Greg at the bottom of the stairs. “Ready to leave?” he asked.

Greg smiled. “Of course. Let’s get this day over.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Mycroft was concerned. Greg normally loved school, it wasn’t like him to not want to go.

“People are going to have a lot of questions.”

“I wanted to ask you a favor about that. Can you please not tell anyone what actually happened that night?” Mycroft asked.

“What?”

“I looked up what the news said about it. They didn’t say anything about me happening in when I did, they just said that we were both attacked. I’d rather people not know my involvement. If they know I was there and was hurt, okay. Otherwise, I don’t want them to know anything.”

Greg nodded. “Okay. I won’t say anything. If anyone asks you, please don’t mention the drinking.”

Mycroft reached out, took Greg’s hand, and squeezed it. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” he said. He moved to pull his hand away and Greg held it. His breath caught in his throat as they walked for the next block holding hands. Eventually, when they were in sight of the school, Greg let go.

No one at school seemed to know what exactly to say to either of them. Things were normal until lunchtime, when Greg didn’t show up. Mycroft checked his phone and he had a message from Greg saying that he was going home because he wasn’t feeling well and not to worry. Mycroft sat at his usual table, trying to keep his head down and hoping that no one would notice him.

One of Greg’s friends sat down next to Mycroft. “How’s Greg doing, mate?” he asked.

“Not feel well, apparently,” Mycroft told him, keeping his eyes on his food.

“What happened that night?”

“I’d rather not discuss it.”

“What, were you two shagging at his house and his dad caught you? Is that it? His dad was a friend of my dad, he’s a great guy. He would never do something like that unless he was provoked.”

“That’s nice,” Mycroft said, still not looking up. Greg had asked him not to say anything, he could stay silent for Greg.

“That’s what I thought. You and Lestrade are an item now. Letting him bugger you senseless all the time, are you?”

Mycroft took a deep breath. He was not going to rise to the bait. He was not going to let this idiot get the better of him in a way that would hurt Greg.

The boy lost interest and went back to his own table. Mycroft finished his lunch, then went into the loo and threw up. When he came out of the stall to rinse his mouth out, Greg was leaning against the sink, waiting for him.

“I forgot that the guys might give you a hard time. I shouldn’t have left you alone here with them,” Greg told him gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that idiot didn’t bother me. I’m just feeling a little ill.”

“Well, let’s get you home anyway. If you’re ill, you should be in bed.”

Mycroft normally would have said no, but the emotional upheaval of the last week was getting to him. He nodded and let Greg take him out of there and back to the house.

“Not feeling well either?” Mycroft’s mother asked when they walked in.

Mycroft shook his head. “Well, go upstairs and sleep some. Tomorrow is a new day.”

As Mycroft lay down in bed, alone for a change, he thought about the next day. It wasn’t promising to be a very good day. He doubted the bullies at school would get any easier. While he and Greg were still living together and still friends, things were likely to get worse and worse. He supposed it might be better if Greg were there to defend him again or even there suffering with him. He thought it was unlikely that the boy would have said anything if Greg had been there, so he assumed that it would be better.

Mycroft woke up for dinner and then went back to bed shortly after. Sometime around ten, he was reading and there was another soft knock on his door.

“Come in,” Mycroft called. Greg walked in, wearing only pajama pants.

“My stitches are bothering me,” Greg complained, looking down at his side.

Mycroft stared. He hadn’t actually seen Greg’s injuries since that night and he wasn’t expecting to see them now, so he was caught off guard. “Come here,” he ordered, beckoning. He sat on the edge of his bed and put his hands on Greg’s waist, pulling him closer so that he could study the various wounds. He knew that Greg’s father had stabbed him four times, but hadn’t hit any vital organs. He had read Greg’s chart, doing adequate research so that he understood everything he read, but seeing actual evidence of that night was very different than seeing notes written about the injuries. He took a deep, steadying breath, afraid to look at Greg’s face, worried that he was going to start crying if he said anything.

“Look up,” Greg said quietly and Mycroft did what he said. “I’m okay. You saved me.” He pulled Mycroft into a hug, holding him against the damaged stomach.

“Let’s go to bed,” Mycroft said. He lay back down, being the big spoon tonight with Greg curled up against Mycroft’s front.

Mycroft awoke in the middle of the night. He was acutely aware of Greg pressed to his back: they must have both shifted in the night, so Greg’s front was to Mycroft’s back. Mycroft realized that something was poking him in the lower back, something hard and in a very particular spot.

“Sorry,” Greg muttered and pulled away slightly.

Mycroft rolled over so they were face to face, barely able to see each other in the darkness. Greg’s eyes were wide as Mycroft put his hand on Greg’s hip, being careful to avoid any of the damaged spots. Hesitantly, Greg leaned forward and kissed Mycroft gently.

Mycroft kissed back, even though he felt woefully inadequate. He wasn’t very good at letting his instincts take over, but he tried, doing what seemed to be natural. Before he knew what was happening, Greg was on top of him, weighing him down and filling his senses. Greg pulled away from Mycroft’s lips and kissed his neck, causing Mycroft to gasp and buck up with his hips. His hard cock came into contact with Greg’s and Greg rocketed backward, so he was sitting on the end of the bed, panting.

“We--we can’t,” Greg said in a rush. He stared at Mycroft. “We need to stop.”

“Okay,” Mycroft said, feeling stupid. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had done that was so bad.

“I’m going to sleep in the other room,” Greg said abruptly and left.

Mycroft watched him go, wondering what exactly had happened. He curled up in his bed, as far away from the spot where Greg had been as possible. He tried to push the emotions away, to not feel them, but he couldn’t help himself: the tears burst out of him and he cried bitterly until he fell asleep.

***

The next morning, Mycroft avoided Greg in the kitchen. Luckily, Mycroft’s parents had left the previous night and weren’t due back for a week. Mycroft left the house early so he wouldn’t have to walk with Greg. He just wanted to be on his own and think. He fell into his seat at his first class, brainstorming ways that he could fix what happened. The problem, as he saw it, was that he wasn’t entirely sure what he had done wrong in the first place. Greg had kissed him first, Greg had rolled on top of him, Mycroft had just gone along with it. He had wanted all of it, of course, and more. He probably wanted it much more than Greg had. Was that it? Did Greg think that Mycroft had taken advantage of Greg at a vulnerable point? Mycroft certainly hadn’t meant to do anything like that.

As the day wore on, Mycroft considered different reasons for Greg getting upset, each one worse than the last. The only option Mycroft thought was possible would be to ask Greg, but that didn’t seem like something he wanted to do. He avoided the lunch room, going to the library and studying during his lunch time instead of eating.

When the day finally ended, Mycroft felt perfectly wretched. He wasn’t sure if that was because of what had happened with Greg or lingering effects from his injuries, which were still bothering him a little. He decided that it was because of his injuries and he decided that a cup of tea was the best thing for him.

When he entered the kitchen, Greg was there, already making tea. “I made you a cup,” Greg said nervously.

“Oh,” Mycroft said, taking it from him. “Thank you.” He turned to leave, but Greg’s words stopped him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” Mycroft asked, looking at Greg with a frown.

“For last night.” Greg looked more scared than Mycroft had ever seen him.

“What about last night? Why are you apologizing for last night?” Mycroft was getting confused. He had done something to upset Greg and now Greg was apologizing. Mycroft wasn’t the best when dealing with emotion, but he knew that was backwards.

“For what I did. For kissing you. I know you don’t do stuff like and that I…” he trailed off at the look on Mycroft’s face. “What did I say? All I mean is that I don’t want to lose you. Now that you know how I feel, understand if you don’t want me around, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“What?” Mycroft asked, feeling completely out of his depth.

“I’m apologizing for basically jumping you last night. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me, right?”

“I thought you were mad at me,” Mycroft said quietly. “I thought you were upset about what happened and you were mad at me for being involved with it. Or for taking advantage of you when you were vulnerable or something.”

“Taking advantage? I kissed you.”

“Well, I know, but you were really upset. I don’t understand how emotions work. I don’t use them.”

“You don’t use emotions?” Greg asked, looking confused.

Mycroft sighed. “Well, except for with you. You make me an emotional mess.” It seemed like they were talking about things like that now, so Mycroft decided to run with it and tell Greg everything.

“An emotional mess in a good way or a bad way?”

“Good way, I suppose. I don’t know. It seems like I’ve been in love with you forever and now you are just here all the time. And I’m comforting you and you’re shirtless in my bed…” he trailed off, realizing with horror how much he said.

“Oh, Mycroft,” Greg said quietly. To Mycroft’s surprise, he didn’t immediately run away, he stepped forward and reached out for Mycroft.

“What? What did I do wrong now?”

“I had no idea! I thought I was making you uncomfortable because you didn’t feel that way and you knew I did.”

“Knew you… What?” Mycroft was normally very proud of his intellect, but it seemed to be failing him now. He had no idea what Greg was talking about.

“I love you, too, Mycroft,” Greg said. “I thought you knew that I loved you and you weren’t interested. Last night I was afraid that I ruined everything, because you don’t date.”

“I don’t date because there’s only one person I’ve ever been interested in,” Mycroft said. “What makes you think that I knew how you felt and that I didn’t feel the same?”

“Well, there was what Sherlock said about me wanting to have sex with you and then I overheard you talking to your mum a couple times. The first time, you said that you don’t feel things like that and then asked what a boy would do if he did. And the second time, you were very firm that we are just friends.” Greg looked miserable, recounting those particular memories. Mycroft remembered all of them, of course, but his interpretation of the events were very different.

“Sherlock was talking about me, not you. And with my mother, well, the first time I was talking about me and the second time I was trying not to feel anything. After all you’ve been through, you hardly need your friend wanting to shag you all the time.”

“You want to shag me?” Greg asked, sounding adorably hopeful.

“Oh yes,” Mycroft said, a smile smile playing at his lips.

“All the time?”

“Every moment of the day. I sometimes think I’m going mad, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Greg smiled broadly and closed the gap between the two of them, pulling Mycroft close and kissing him deeply. “I love you, Mycroft.”

Mycroft wanted to pull back and talk about things some more, but a primal part of his brain took over and he was clutching at Greg and moaning deep into his mouth, pressing his body as close to Greg’s as he could.

“Can I take you to bed?” Greg asked.

Mycroft smiled. “I would love that.”

They practically ran up the stairs, reaching Mycroft’s room and tumbling into bed as they tried to kiss and undress at the same time. “I was worried every night that I was going to poke you in my sleep,” Greg said with a grin, straddling Mycroft’s middle and leaning down for a kiss.

Mycroft chuckled. “I worried about the same time. You had it easy, I wasn’t shirtless half of the nights we shared the bed.

Greg kissed Mycroft’s neck again, causing Mycroft to throw his head back and moan. “I love the noises you make,” Greg whispered, moving his lips lower and lower on Mycroft’s body.

“I love the things you do,” Mycroft responded, groaning as Greg reached Mycroft’s throbbing cock and took it fully into his mouth. Mycroft let out a cry as Greg started sucking, feeling like he was going to explode.

Mycroft couldn’t believe that this was happening. He had resigned himself to being alone, thinking that he would never have anyone who loved him or wanted to be with him physically. Now that he was here, with his cock in the mouth of the sexiest boy he knew, who apparently loved Mycroft. Thinking about Greg loving him, Mycroft didn’t last very long, not having the forethought to warn Greg about his impending orgasm.

Greg didn’t even flinch, he just swallowed it all down, licking his lips as he lifted his head. “That was so sexy,” Greg said, smiling at Mycroft.

“I was just going to say the same thing,” Mycroft told him, reaching down and stroking Greg’s cheek. “Can I do you now?”

Greg laughed. “Maybe in a bit. I got a little excited when you came, so I need a minute,” he said, gesturing down to his rapidly shrinking cock.

Mycroft felt his own cock start to fill again, thinking about Greg getting so excited at Mycroft’s orgasm that he had is own. He sat up and reached for Greg, pulling him up for a gentle, but very passionate, kiss.

***

The next day, while they were walking to school, Greg took Mycroft’s hand and held it. “You don’t have to do that,” Mycroft said quietly.

“I want to,” Greg told him with a smile. “I like touching you. And this way, everyone knows where we stand. That’s important to me. Though, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Mycroft smiled. “It only makes me uncomfortable because I don’t want you to have to deal with idiots.”

Greg shrugged. “Getting to touch you is more important than having to deal with idiots. And they’ll find out anyway.”

“I suppose I would rather you put that off. I have been dealing with them my whole life. I know how frustrating it can be.”

“You’re being silly, Mycroft. I will be okay.”

Mycroft nodded, but he didn’t believe him. He’ll find out, Mycroft thought as they walked into the school, causing people to stare and gasp at their intertwined hands. Mycroft watched Greg out of the corner of his eye, worried about his reaction.

By ten o’clock, the entire school was atwitter with the news that Greg and Mycroft were dating. It hadn’t been very long since they had become friends and the school had barely managed that without the social structure totally imploding. Popular boys were not meant to date nerds and nerds were meant to know their place. Mycroft was sure that the girls who kept tripping him were doing it on purpose, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain to anyone about it. So he picked his books and papers up off the floor and pretended that he was just particularly clumsy.

Once again, Greg’s friends chose to cause a problem at lunch time. Greg and Mycroft were sitting at their table together. Mycroft could finally relax now that he saw Greg and that he was reassured that everything was fine with Greg.

Greg’s former best friend, a boy named Alan, walked over to the table, a smile playing at his lips. “Surprise, surprise. We all knew this was coming. It was clear that you two were going to be shagging soon. Disgustingly obvious.”

“Do you have a problem, mate?” Greg asked, standing up.

“I just don’t like what’s happened to you since you started spending time with this poof.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it either,” Greg said, looking at Mycroft. The expression on his face said that he wanted to do something dramatic again, so Mycroft nodded at him, giving him permission for whatever he decided to do.

“Do you have any idea what happened last week?” Greg asked, stepping close to Alan.

“Yes, I know, I know, your father attacked you and your boyfriend.” He spat the last word, as if it disgusted him to say it. 

“No. My alcoholic father tried to kill me. While I was sleeping, my father got drunk, went into my bedroom, and stabbed me. He thought I was dead and was trying to dispose of my body, so he had dragged me down the stairs.” Greg was nearly shouting, holding himself at his full height, clearly intimidating Alan. “At that point, and I’m only going on what I’ve been told happened, because I was near death, Mycroft came to check on me. You see, he knew about my father. He was the only person I trusted to tell about the years of abuse by my father. He hadn’t heard from me, so he went to my house to make sure that I was okay. He went inside and saw what my father was doing. Instead of running and calling the police, like a normal person, he called the police and then tried to distract my father, who then attacked Mycroft.”

Mycroft took a deep, steadying breath, knowing what was next. Greg pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it away. “My father tried to kill me by stabbing me here, here, here, and here. If it weren’t for Mycroft Holmes, I would be dead now. All of you idiots giving him a hard time for being who he is owe him an apology. He saved my life. And he didn’t even want me to tell you what he did. He wanted to keep it a secret. The attention embarrasses him.”

Mycroft was indeed embarrassed, his face flaming red. He looked down at the table, trying to pretend that he was invisible. “So apologize,” Greg said to Alan.

Alan took a deep breath. It was one thing to hear about an attempted murder, it was another to see the evidence of it. When he looked at Mycroft, it was clear that he was fighting tears. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t know.”

Mycroft nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now, if we can put this all behind us,” Greg said, retrieving his shirt and putting it back on. He sat down next to Mycroft, returning to their conversation.

“You are a complete and total nutter,” Mycroft told him, leaning forward for a kiss.

“That’s why you love me.”

“I really do.”

***

Years later, when Greg and Mycroft married in the back garden of his parents’ house, Mycroft thought about those first few weeks together. He couldn’t believe that it had taken him so long to realize that Greg felt the same about him and he was even more surprised that Greg, normally the one who was so in tune with emotions, took so long to figure it out as well. Eventually he chalked it up to childish ignorance and reminded himself to consider his emotions more carefully.

“Pay attention, Mycroft,” Greg whispered to him.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“You, us. When we started dating.”

Greg laughed. “What a pair of nutters.”

“Indeed.”


End file.
